


Speak to Me (Tell Me Your Name)

by 27dragons



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Language Barrier, M/M, Omega Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22579768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: Omega Bucky is to be given in marriage as part of a peace treaty. He is resigned to his fate, though a little worried when he realizes he doesn’t have a language in common with his new alphas.(For square B5 [Foreign Language] of the Marvel Polyship Bingo)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 140
Kudos: 889
Collections: Marvel Polyship Bingo 2020





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky laid on his narrow cot and stared up at the ceiling.

He knew what he was. He knew what he was for. They’d been telling him since he’d been removed from his birth family at the age of four.

Sometimes, right on the edge of sleep, he thought he could remember his mother.

All for the greater good, they told him. Omegas were too rare and precious to risk on an unsheltered upbringing. The king, in his wisdom, kept the immature omegas apart from the rest of society; in his kindness, provided them with food and board and training; in his compassion, found alphas to care for them.

And if some of those alphas were supporters the king wished to reward, or allies the king needed to secure, well, that was the king’s right. All subjects existed to serve the king, and omegas more than most.

In the morning, Bucky would be delivered to his new alpha. He should sleep, so he wouldn’t look tired or unhappy for his alpha, but he couldn’t stop wondering who they were, what they would be like. What _life_ would be like, away from the dorms and classrooms of the omega house.

The night seemed to stretch on forever, and yet it seemed no time at all before there came the sound of the key in the lock, and the door opened. “Get up, get dressed,” the dorm warden said, and then slammed the door shut again.

Bucky did as he was told. He knew what he was for.

The warden led him down the hall at a brisk walk, nearly a jog. He went straight past the dining hall where the other resident omegas were gathering for breakfast. That might be a mercy in disguise, Bucky thought - his stomach was roiling with nerves. If he ate, he might be in danger of throwing it up again right in front of his alpha.

Through the front hall and out the door. There was a carriage waiting for them on the street, and Bucky’s throat closed. The last time he’d come this way, it had been an outing with the whole house, heavily chaperoned, and they’d only walked a few blocks to a nearby park. He couldn’t remember ever being in a carriage before, unless maybe when he’d first come to the house.

The bench was padded, upholstered in velvet brocade; Bucky was almost afraid to muss it by sitting on it, but the warden shot him with a sharp look. “Stop wasting time,” he snapped, and Bucky hurriedly settled himself where he could look out through the narrow slit in the curtains over the window.

The carriage jolted into motion and Bucky watched as his sliver of view changed, showing the few houses and streets he knew. And then buildings and roads he’d never seen before. He wondered where they were going. Who his alpha would be.

With every turn of the carriage, Bucky held his breath, wondering if it would soon slow to a stop, but they kept going. And going. Finally, he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “Where are we going? Who...” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words aloud.

The warden cleared his throat. “Two years ago, the neighboring countries of Tarr and Eild made peace,” he said. “Last year, their rulers formed an alliance, sealing it with a marriage, the King of Tarr and a prince of Eild.”

Bucky knew that. He’d been a diligent student at lessons. “Yes, warden. I recall.”

“They are both alphas,” the warden said, “the marriage useless as more than a gesture. It needs an omega to legitimize it. And they have come seeking a treaty with us.”

The shock of realization was like a physical jolt. “Me? But-- Surely there are omegas in Tarr or Eild who would be better suited--”

“You will go where the king sends you,” the warden reminded him sternly. “How better to symbolize the treaty than by adding one of our own to their union? One who can provide what neither of the others can.”

Bucky bit his lip. “Yes, warden. If... If I may ask, who... Which of them will I be bound to?”

“Weren’t you listening?” the warden chided. “You will join the union, not replace it. You will belong to both of them.”

Bucky stared. _Two_ alphas? How would that even work? How would he-- Cheeks flaming, he turned to look out the window again.

The rest of the ride passed in a blur, Bucky’s head whirling with questions that he knew would not be answered. At least it was long enough for him to recover his outward calm, mostly. Whatever happened, he would not shame his king or his country.

He knew what he was for.

He held that thought in mind as he was handed out of the carriage by a servant whose livery was finer than anything Bucky had ever thought to wear. As he and the warden were led into the cool stone halls of the palace. As they waited to be admitted and announced.

Finally, they were summoned.

The king was not there, and Bucky wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

There were only three people in the room aside from Bucky and the warden: a huge blond man, clearly a warrior despite his fine clothes; a somewhat smaller man with dark hair and elegantly-shaped facial hair and a regal bearing; and a tall woman wearing the king’s livery who stood several steps from the two men.

The two men were talking in low, terse voices -- arguing, Bucky would have said, except that he couldn’t understand anything they were saying.

Barely halfway across the room, the scent of _alpha_ slammed into him, so strong he nearly stumbled.

The woman said something in a language Bucky didn’t know, addressing the men. The warrior shifted his attention to her, frowning slightly. The other man looked at _Bucky_ , dark eyes unreadable and measuring.

Bucky started to fidget, then forcibly stilled his hands and lowered his gaze. He parted his lips a little, breathing through his mouth so that constant barrage of _alpha_ wouldn’t make him dizzy. Would it always be so strong? Stronger, even, in their own quarters? How did omegas function like this? He could barely remember his own name.

There was a pause, and the warden stepped forward. “Your Honors,” he said, “we are pleased to serve the king’s command, and to present you with this omega. He is of full growth and excellent health, and trained in the arts and services expected of his place.”

The woman spoke again -- translating, Bucky assumed. He risked another glance up, and they were both looking at him, now. The warrior’s frown had deepened, his lips pressed together in something like displeasure, and Bucky hurriedly looked down again.

The warden nudged Bucky another few nervewracking steps forward, and Bucky heard the sound of his own name mixed with the liquid syllables of the other language.

The translator turned to him. “I make you known to His Honor, Stephen, Prince of Eild--” She gestured toward the warrior. Bucky bowed as he’d been taught, and Prince Stephen’s forbidding expression softened somewhat. “--and consort to His Honor, Anthony, King of Tarr.” The sweep of her hand shifted. Bucky bowed again, slightly lower in deference to the higher rank. King Anthony’s eyes remained inscrutable, but there was a faint tick to the corner of his mouth. Bucky didn’t know whether that portended good or ill.

He would have to learn to read them, as he’d learned to read the wardens and the tutors at the omega house -- and quickly, because the stakes were even higher now. Wardens and tutors could punish, but until bonded to an alpha, omegas were property of the king. Once bonded, an omega’s life rested entirely in their alpha’s hands.

“...Your alphas,” the translator finished. She added another sentence or so in the other language -- Bucky wasn’t even certain if it was Eildish or Tarrian -- and then she stepped back a precise two lengths, bowed, and turned on her heel to leave.

“Don’t shame us,” the warden whispered harshly, and then he, too, was gone, and the heavy oaken door closed behind him, leaving Bucky alone with the two alphas.

Prince Stephen let out a gusty sigh and said something that sounded like a question.

King Anthony answered calmly, waving one hand as if in explanation.

Prince Stephen looked annoyed and began to speak, but King Anthony interrupted, his voice still low but tight with some emotion. The sweep of his arm unfolded toward... Bucky?

Bucky glanced behind him, but no one had come into the room. They were talking about him. Arguing, maybe? Trying to decide which of them would bond him first? (Was a double-bond even possible? Bucky didn’t know; he’d never heard of such a thing.) He swallowed hard. “Your Honors,” he started, and then stopped. What could he say? They didn’t even speak the same language.

King Anthony muttered something, then took three long strides that put him face-to-face with Bucky. He touched his own chest with the tips of his fingers and said something very brief.

“I’m, I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Bucky glanced at Prince Stephen, who had come a little closer as well, not quite within reach, and then looked back at King Anthony. “I don’t--”

“Toh,” King Anthony said, very carefully, and then turned his hand over, as if in invitation. He watched Bucky expectantly.

“I-- I’m not--”

“ _Toh_.”

“Toh?” Bucky repeated, confused and bewildered.

King Anthony smiled, then, and nodded. “Neh.”

Bucky glanced at Prince Stephen, watching patiently. “Neh?”

“Neh,” King Anthony stressed.

“Neh,” Bucky tried.

King Anthony’s nose scrunched a little, and he bobbed his head to one side and then shrugged. “Toh. Neh.”

“Toh. Neh.”

King Anthony grinned and nodded very fast. “Toh neh,” he said, pushing the syllables together.

They felt odd on his tongue, but Bucky tried it. “Toh neh.”

King Anthony nodded again. He tapped his chest and said, “Toh neh.” Then he touched his fingertips to Bucky’s chest, very lightly. “Dzems.”

Bucky blinked at him.

Prince Stephen laughed, and King Anthony shot him an exasperated look. “James,” Prince Stephen said, and it was accented but clear.

King Anthony rolled his eyes. “Dzems,” he repeated, as if it was perfectly reasonable, and Bucky realized he’d been trying to say Bucky’s name.

A giggle slipped out of Bucky’s throat and he clapped both hands over his mouth in horror.

But Prince Stephen laughed again, and King Anthony only snorted. He said something to Prince Stephen, rapidfire, with an impatient wave of the hand.

Prince Stephen touched Bucky’s shoulder. “James.” Then he touched King Anthony’s shoulder. “Toh-ny.” He pointed at himself. “Steve.”

 _Names_. They were telling him their names, what they wanted him to call them.

Bucky couldn’t quite push himself to touch them, but he reached out and almost brushed the lapels of Prince Stephen’s elegant coat. “S-steef,” he tried. “Stevf.” It was harder to make the sound than he thought, but Prince Stephen -- Steve -- looked delighted.

Bucky turned back to King Anthony. “And you are Toh--nhe. Tony?”

A broad grin and another nod, and Bucky couldn’t help answering it with a small, proud smile of his own. Tony jabbered something to Steve, who grinned back and nodded.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

It might be a good sign that they weren’t standing on protocol, making him bow and scrape. That they were giving him what he had to assume were their personal use-names. Maybe, maybe, it would be all right. All he had to do was get through the _bonding_.

“I know you can’t understand me,” he said, and immediately Tony and Steve were looking at him again, unnerving in the intensity of their stares. “But are you going to-- How do you want to-- I don’t know how this works, really, but you’re the alphas, so...” He grabbed at the high collar of his shirt and tugged it down, trying to ignore the way his cheeks ached from blushing. “I’d rather have it over with,” he admitted.

Steve looked solemn. Tony’s eyes dragged over the unprotected skin of Bucky’s throat, then snapped back up again. “Steve,” he said, and then asked a question without looking away from Bucky’s face.

Steve coughed out something like a laugh, though he didn’t look amused at all. He shook his head, and even Bucky recognized the word for “no”.

Tony grimaced a little and nodded, as if he’d had an unpleasant suspicion confirmed.

He reached for Bucky, captured Bucky’s hand between both of his. “Dzem-- _Dzayms_ ,” he said carefully, trying to press his tongue into the unfamiliar shape of Bucky’s name. Whatever he said after that, Bucky had no idea what it was, other than very serious and full of concern. He wound it up with a tip to his head, questioning and hopeful.

“I have no idea what you said,” Bucky told him. He glanced at Steve, though what help he hoped to find there, he didn’t know.

Steve shook his head fondly at Tony, and stepped closer, close enough to touch, close enough for Bucky to feel the heat radiating off his skin. He slowly and gently curled his fingers over the side of Bucky’s neck. “Yes?” he said, accent thickly wrapping around the word. “No?”

Was Steve... _asking_ whether Bucky _wanted_ to bond? Bucky had never heard of alphas doing any such thing. For a wild instant, Bucky was tempted to say no, just to see what they would do -- but the alternative, at best, was for him to return to the omega dormitory, to sit his classes and while away the time until he was given to another alpha. Another alpha who was pretty much guaranteed to treat Bucky like an object. An alpha who definitely would _not_ ask. Breathless, Bucky nodded. “Yes.”

Steve nodded and said something else, a quick bob of his head. And then his mouth replaced his hand on Bucky’s throat, lips dragging over the tender skin, tongue flicking against the sensitive gland.

“Dzayms,” Tony said, gently, and he was closer, now, his finger gently tapping Bucky’s chin, turning Bucky’s head to the side. Tony tapped his own cheek, just under his eye, and said something soft and soothing, as if Bucky were some kind of wild creature that had to be tamed and coaxed. Tony brushed his fingers lightly over Bucky’s hair, talking all the while.

Bucky wondered what Tony was saying. Once or twice, he caught Steve’s name in the mix, but Bucky couldn’t figure out whether Tony was talking _to_ Steve or _about_ Steve. He was so caught up in wondering at the meaning of Tony’s words, in watching the movement of Tony’s mouth, that he almost missed the brief, sharp pain when Steve bit down.

He stiffened, mouth falling open on a gasp.

“Shh, shh...” Tony stroked Bucky’s hair and face, murmuring soothingly until -- sooner than Bucky had expected -- Steve pulled away.

Steve’s eyes were wide, the pupils nearly eclipsing the clear azure as he stared at Bucky, dazed.

“Steve,” Tony said, and asked some question. Steve nodded in response, not able, apparently, to speak. Or even to look away from Bucky. Bucky couldn’t quite seem to pull his eyes from Steve, either. It was as if the entire world had rearranged itself with Steve at its center.

“Alpha,” he breathed.

Tony made a satisfied hum, then brushed his thumb along the line of Bucky’s jaw. “Dzayms?”

Bucky tried to turn his head to look at Tony, but his eyes stayed fixed on Steve.

Tony huffed softly and muttered something. “Yahs? Nho?”

The same thing Steve had asked, in an even broader accent. But Bucky _had_ an alpha, now. He stared at Steve helplessly, not knowing what his alpha wanted him to do.

Steve smiled sweetly. “James,” he said, and pointed at Bucky.

Bucky nodded. “That’s me, I’m James.” He’d always hated the sound of his name, had stubbornly clung to his childhood nickname, but he thought he could learn to like the sound of it in his alpha’s mouth.

Steve’s mouth twisted a little, wry. He tapped Bucky’s chest, just over the heart. “Yes, no, Tony?” he tried. “Tony yes, Tony no? James yes, James no.”

His alpha wanted him to decide, apparently, whether to let Tony bond him, whether to admit Tony to their mating.

Bucky tore his eyes from his alpha to look at Tony, who was watching, waiting patiently. Tony would, apparently, abide by Bucky’s decision. Despite being alpha to Bucky’s omega; rich to Bucky’s poor, king to Bucky’s subject. Tony would obey _him_.

It rushed through Bucky like the wind of a summer storm, hot and rough, and he might have fallen if Steve’s arm hadn’t been holding him up. “Yes,” he panted in its wake. “Tony yes.”

Tony smiled, brushed his thumb over Bucky’s cheek again, and then pointed at Steve.

Bucky followed Tony’s finger and found himself ensnared in Steve’s eyes again.

Steve didn’t talk to him, as Tony had, but there was no need. Bucky was entranced by the play of light on his alpha’s face, the length of Steve’s eyelashes, the--

Tony bit down, and it hurt more this time, the skin already tender and sensitive. Bucky let out a wounded sound and Steve growled a little, said something sharp to... to Tony? Bucky hadn’t displeased his alpha?

Tony hummed and licked at Bucky’s neck, the sensation warm and soothing. Bucky sighed in relief and Steve’s expression softened.

Tony pulled away and Bucky glanced at him -- and was immediately enraptured. “Alpha?”

He glanced at Steve, but his instinctive pull toward Steve hadn’t faded at all. It just... pulled him toward Tony, too. He looked between them, one and then the other.

Two alphas. He had _two_ alphas.

And they were both looking at him like a rare and precious jewel, like the last drop of water in the midst of a desert, like... like something that _mattered_.

He should kneel, or drop his gaze, show his deference. Instead, he laughed, holding out his hands until his alphas took them, smiling back at him. “My alphas,” he said, and it sounded right and good. He’d need to learn the Tarrian and Eildish words, to properly stand with his alphas. He’d need to learn the customs he was expected to follow, and -- well, almost everything, really.

But he wasn’t worried. His alphas were kind, and would help him; they were powerful, and would protect him.

He knew what he was for. But he’d never before realized that he didn’t have to do his duty alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For square N1 (First Date) of the Marvel Polyship Bingo.

Bucky’d had an hour with his new alphas, no more, before some aide had arrived to escort them to another meeting. Another aide had intercepted Bucky and taken him to the guest quarters that his alphas shared.

There was a separate bedroom for him, accessible only from their bedroom. It was small but lush, entirely dominated by a wide bed built so high with mattresses and pillows that there were stairs fixed to the sides to let him climb up. Bucky blushed so hard it hurt, every time he so much as glanced at that bed.

He wasn’t given long to dwell, though. The aide chivvied Bucky into a bath, then insisted on grooming him, going over every inch -- _every_ inch -- of his skin with oils and fragrance, cutting and styling his hair, polishing his fingernails and smoothing the rough edges. His face was shaved, offending hairs were plucked, cosmetics applied.

Lastly, he was dressed like a doll in a silver tunic with red piping at the seams and matching silver-and-ruby jewelry.

The whole process took _hours_.

And to think, Bucky had wondered what he was going to do with the time his alphas were in their conferences.

When the aide finished and triumphantly turned Bucky toward the mirror, he stared at himself in shocked disbelief. He wasn’t sure he even _recognized_ himself there, though as he drew closer to the polished surface, he thought he knew the stormcloud eyes staring back at him, nearly a match for the pale color of the tunic.

“Come,” the aide said impatiently. “You mustn’t be late for the dinner.”

Bucky followed through the winding halls with no idea where he was going or why, until he caught a scent that was too compelling to ignore, the warm-sweet scent of his alphas. He pushed past the aide and through a doorway, following that scent.

His alphas turned as one as he entered. Steve’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Tony smiled, easy and happy, and reached out a hand that Bucky willingly took, letting Tony draw him closer, until he was standing between them.

Tony said something to him in what Bucky was fairly certain was Tarrian, but he didn’t understand a word of it. He smiled tentatively back.

Steve caught up the other hand, and when Bucky turned, lifted it to his lips to brush a kiss across Bucky’s knuckles.

Bucky blushed. Again.

Tony chuckled and pulled Bucky’s hand through his arm. He said something else, and gestured.

Bucky, following the sweep of Tony’s hand, saw another doorway that opened up into an enormous dining hall that was filled with people, all in lavish dress that put his own to shame.

Steve patted Bucky’s hand, and when Bucky looked at him, gave Bucky a small, sympathetic smile. He said something, nodding, and then cocked his head. “Yes? No?”

No one would really be looking at _Bucky_. They would see the clothes, they would see the bondmarks -- Bucky’s neck suddenly felt horrifyingly exposed -- and they would see an omega. An ornament. A means to an end. Not a person.

But Steve and Tony saw Bucky, saw a person. And an omega on their arms, even shared, would help them. Bolster their reputations.

He could do this. He nodded. “Yes.” It came out a little shaky, but Steve grinned wide, and kissed the back of Bucky’s hand again, a touch that seemed to set butterflies alight in the bottom of Bucky’s stomach.

Tony was smiling at him, too, looking pleased and proud. Bucky ducked his head, not sure what to do with so much positive attention.

Two steps, and the herald was announcing them in a clear, carrying voice, and heads were turning to look at them. “His Honor, King Anthony the First of Tarr. His Honor, Prince Stephen of Eild. Their consort, Sir James Barnes.”

Bucky startled a little at the _Sir_ ; he hadn’t realized that being bonded to royalty would, of necessity, raise his own humble status, even if it was only a courtesy title.

Tony led the way, Bucky’s hand still tucked firmly into his arm so there was no choice but to follow. Steve stepped in perfect synchronicity, a practiced and polished stride.

Bucky caught the rhythm of it after a few steps and matched his own pace to theirs. He kept his eyes straight ahead, not acknowledging the heads that craned to see him, even if he could physically _feel_ the weight of them staring at his bondmarks, at his clothes, his hair, his face. He’d never felt so exposed, not even when he’d been standing naked in front of the aide.

Tony murmured something and patted Bucky’s hand. Bucky had no idea what Tony had said, but the tone of it was reassuring.

Tony led them to the high table at the front of the room, and Bucky physically had to swallow down his nervousness as Steve pulled out a chair and gestured for Bucky to sit there. He took a deep breath, letting the nearness of his alphas and their mingled scent soothe him. None of these other people mattered. Only his alphas.

Bucky sat and found a point on the far wall to fix his gaze on. His alphas settled next to him, and he felt a little better. Safer.

Steve spoke in an undertone, and Tony responded the same way. Bucky wondered what they were saying. He would have to learn Tarrian very soon, he guessed.

Well, no time like the present. He picked up a fork by his plate and showed it to Tony. “Fork?” He gestured from Tony to the utensil, eyebrows lifting.

Tony hummed. “Fahrk,” he tried, then shook his head, smiling ruefully. “ _Itah_.” He cocked his head, waiting for Bucky to repeat it.

“ _Itah_ ,” Bucky tried.

Tony laughed and wobbled his hand from side to side. “Eeeee-thah,” he enunciated.

“ _Itah_?”

Tony grinned and bobbed his head crookedly, which Bucky chose to interpret as _not quite but better_.

Steve leaned in from Bucky’s other side. “ _Itah_ ,” he said, tapping the fork. Then he touched the spoon. “ _Ezzil_.” The knife: “ _Kasseh_.” His mouth tipped wryly and then he touched each one in succession. “ _Onata_.”

When Bucky repeated them back, both Steve and Tony looked extremely pleased. Steve squeezed Bucky’s arm gently, and Tony brushed a hand down Bucky’s back. A warm, fluttery feeling shivered down Bucky’s spine, pleasure at having pleased.

As food arrived, Bucky’s alpha’s took turns teaching him the names of the various dishes, though for some of them, Bucky wasn’t quite sure whether they meant the dish or an ingredient it was made with. But that was a detail that would be smoothed out later.

“ _Matanah_ ,” Tony said, holding a forkful of game pie.

“ _Matanah_ ,” Bucky repeated, pointing to the pie on his own plate.

But Tony shook his head. “ _Mata_ \-- Steve. _Matanah_.”

Steve huffed a little, smiling, and leaned across Bucky, opening his mouth and letting Tony feed the bite to him. Then he picked up a piece of melon that had been fancifully carved into the shape of a flower and held it up. “ _Matanah_ ,” he told Tony.

Tony promptly leaned in to nibbled the fruit from Steve’s fingers. He sat back as he chewed and swallowed, then selected a thin slice of cheese from his own plate. “ _Matanah?_ ” He looked at Bucky.

Something hot and heavy dropped into the bottom of Bucky’s stomach, a sweet ache at the intimacy of it. Bucky bit his lip and nodded, belatedly opening his mouth.

Tony’s fingers brushed lightly over Bucky’s lip as they deposited the cheese on Bucky’s tongue, and Bucky flushed a little at the look in Tony’s eyes as he swallowed it, barely tasting its sharpness.

He glanced around the room nervously, but though many people were watching them, no one seemed particularly scandalized or disgusted. Bucky picked up a tidbit, a thinly-sliced bit of smoked meat wrapped around a creamy center, and offered it to Tony. “Mat- _Matanah?_ ” he tried.

Tony looked utterly delighted as he took it, his lips brushing Bucky’s fingers lightly in a way that made Bucky’s innards shiver. When he’d chewed, he nodded past Bucky, indicating Steve.

Bucky looked over and was caught in Steve’s gaze, hot and possessive. Bucky hesitated again -- was there some etiquette to it? Should the higher-ranked person offer first? -- but Steve just raised his eyebrows, challenging, and Bucky found himself offering Steve an olive before he’d even consciously made the decision to do it.

Steve fed him a bit of bread that had been dipped in a rich, heavy sauce, which gave Steve an excuse to touch Bucky again afterward, wiping away a tiny speck of smeared sauce.

The dinner seemed to drag on interminably, even with Steve and Tony teaching him various Tarrian words. The dessert course came and went, and then it seemed every petty noble had to stand up to offer a toast.

But finally, it ended, or at least reached a point where Tony and Steve could politely excuse themselves. Steve took Bucky’s hand again as they made their way to the exit, and Bucky tried not to see the knowing smirks following their progress through the room.

An entire garden’s worth of butterflies seemed to have been unleashed in Bucky’s stomach as they approached their suite. Now, surely, they would teach him the next of his duties, would strip him out of the fine tunic and touch him in all his most delicate places.

He was so caught up in trying to imagine it that he almost didn’t realize when they drew to a halt, standing in front of the interior door that led to Bucky’s little room. They meant to take him on his own bed, then, he thought.

“ _Bessit_?” Steve asked him.

Bucky wracked his brain, but he didn’t think they’d taught him that word over dinner. He shook his head a little in confusion.

“ _Bessit_ ,” Tony said. He reached up and curved his hand along Steve’s jaw, drawing the prince in for a slow, gentle kiss. It was, beyond question, the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen. “ _Bessit_ ,” Tony repeated when he drew back again.

Steve’s face was a little flushed, but he turned his earnest smile on Bucky again. “ _Bessit_ , James?”

“Are you asking me for a kiss?” Bucky wondered. 

He licked his lips and Steve’s eyes flicked downward, zeroing in on that small movement, and then looked back up to search Bucky’s expression.

“ _Bessit_ ,” Bucky agreed, nodding, his heart racing in his chest like a startled rabbit.

Steve smiled, bright and undeniably happy, then leaned in, watching closely -- maybe to see if Bucky would change his mind?

Bucky wasn’t sure what to do. Where should he put his hands? How long would it last? What if--

Then Steve’s hand cupped Bucky’s jaw, angling Bucky’s face just a little, and his lips brushed over Bucky’s, once, twice, before stopping to linger. It was warm and soft and gentle.

He found one hand curled in the fabric of Steve’s shirt, pulling them closer together or maybe just keeping himself from sliding to the floor and melting.

When Steve pulled away, he withdrew only enough to search Bucky’s expression, but whatever he found there seemed to please him. He ducked back in, nuzzling along the length of Bucky’s jaw before claiming Bucky’s mouth again.

A noise from Tony jolted Bucky out of the moment, but when he looked, Tony didn’t seem angry or jealous or impatient. His head was tipped, just a little, as he watched them with a pleased, almost smug expression.

He said something to Steve, too fast for Bucky to try to pick out any of the words, and Steve laughed, just a little.

Bucky couldn’t quite bring himself to let go of Steve’s shirt, but he reached out to Tony with his other hand, and Tony readily took it. “Tony, _bessit?_ ” he asked, blush heating his neck.

“Yahs,” Tony said, smiling gently. He said something else, then -- Tony, Bucky was learning, talked a _lot_ \-- and then curled his hand around Bucky’s neck, covering the still-tender bonding bites.

The touch sent a shudder down Bucky’s spine, but he kind of liked it.

Tony kissed him, then, not the tender, gentle kiss Steve had given him, but something warmer, more demanding. Bucky gasped and Tony’s tongue darted out, licking at Bucky’s mouth, teasing the edges of his lips.

It wasn’t like any kiss Bucky had ever imagined. It was urgent and needy, a claiming and a giving all at once, and he was helpless to do anything but surrender to it. His knees felt weak and if Steve’s arm hadn’t been around his waist, he might have fallen.

When Tony pulled back, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes dark, and Bucky was half-panting for breath. “ _Bessit_ , yes,” Bucky managed, and Tony laughed. Steve was smiling as well, squeezing Bucky a little.

Steve nuzzled at Bucky’s temple a little and he pressed a soft kiss against Bucky’s cheek. He said something and -- stepped back, releasing his hold on Bucky.

Bucky blinked at him in confusion, and then Tony moved back as well, leaning back against Steve’s bulk. They were both still smiling at him, so he hadn’t offended them, probably. He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Tony waved toward him, a small shooing motion. He said something, then put his hands together and pantomimed lying down and closing his eyes. _Sleep_.

Bucky glanced toward the door at his back, still closed, and then looked back at his alphas. They... were not planning to follow him into his room? Or to keep him in theirs? He put his hand over the bond-bites and looked back at his alphas. “Why?”

Tony looked up at Steve and said something, waving a hand vaguely.

Steve frowned and grumbled.

Tony turned to face Steve and spoke in a gentle, soothing tone, and after a moment, Steve’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, nodding.

Tony turned back to Bucky, drawing close again. He brushed a stray lock of hair out of Bucky’s face, a tender gesture, and then ran his knuckles lightly down Bucky’s cheek. “Dzayms yahs, Dzayms nho,” he said soberly. He pointed at the door into Bucky’s room and mimed sleep again. “Yahs, nho?” Then he pointed over his shoulder toward Steve, who was watching with a frown of concentration. Or... not toward Steve, but toward the bed behind Steve. “Nho, yahs?” Tony tapped the center of Bucky’s chest lightly. “Dzayms.”

“I’m supposed to decide if I want you to bed me?” Bucky looked from Tony to Steve in disbelief. “You _bonded_ me. Do you not _want_ me?” But that wasn’t... quite right. They wouldn’t have kissed him if they didn’t want him, would they? Not like that. They’d have just sent him to bed untouched, not offered him a choice. “You are very confusing,” he complained.

His alphas were still watching him attentively, frowning slightly, waiting for him to choose.

He wasn’t made for choices. He had spent his whole life learning only how to _obey_ , to _submit_ , to _comply_. “I...” They had been nothing but kind to him. Solicitous. They’d shared a certain amount of humor at dinner, trying to interpret and translate, and they hadn’t once scolded him for being slow. Their kisses had left Bucky’s skin warm and flushed, his lips tingling. Left him wanting _more_.

Bucky pushed away from the wall and the door, and Tony backed away a step, giving him room to move. Bucky took a breath and stepped away from the door. Another step, and then another, and he found himself at the side of their bed. The sheets looked fine-woven and cool, the blanket soft and warm. He turned to face his alphas. “This,” he said, and held out his hands to them. “Yes.”


End file.
